I love you but I hate you
by Kerrie-chan
Summary: [BryanxLiika] Bryan reflecting on his life since he met the troubelsome blue haired girl with her condemning large eyes. Dedicated to Naitheas, Rynnsama and Faith


I love you, but I hate you

By K-chan

AN: Hm this was a spur of the moment thing I wrote on my birthday… sort of a present to myself and to those Bryan/Liika fans out there ;)

Warning: It DOES contain some modified spoilers from G Rev tho.    I hope you guys like it!

From the time I was a mere child, before I was ever sent to the hell hole I called home for fifteen years of my life, I told myself I'd never fall for anyone.  No one would ever have the kind of control over me that a woman had over a man that was in love with her.  The kind of control my mother had over my father.

It's amusing really, to think that out of all of us, I am the only one that retained any memory of life before the Abbey, of my parents.  Tala remembers snippets, nothing concrete, mostly dreamlike, Spencer was an orphan from almost birth, he has nothing to remember, while Ian merely forgot.  It's amusing because out of all of us, it was I that had the harshest training, I that was shaped to be even more ruthless than Tala, and more emotionless than Spencer.  I was to be the perfect soldier.  But I failed, according to Boris anyway.

Looking back, even then I couldn't give a shit what Boris thought of me.  Sure I followed him like every other faithful, brain washed moron in the Abbey, but for me, and for the rest of my closest 'friends', it was a job.  We were only biding our time until we could overthrow Boris and Voltaire.  Unfortunately for us, that time never came.

Which brings me back to the subject at hand.  Having come to the conclusion at a young age that love was an evil and vile emotion used by the weaker of the species to over throw the stronger, more superior of the species, it was not hard to lose whatever emotions I had when I entered the Abbey, submitting to the brutal training program the Biovolt scientists put me through.

Emotions were and still are for the weak.  It's not something that I have changed my view on, despite my current circumstances.  I don't imagine I ever will.  I was born distrusting, and I will forever remain so.  But she understands that, it's how things are between us.

Her.

She is the bane of my existence, but at the same time is my entire life.  If someone would have told me when I was fifteen that I was going to meet her and become as I am with her I would have told them to shoot me right there.  If I hadn't have shot them first.  Knowing myself.  I would have shot first, asked questions later.

Tala has asked on many occasions why it was I chose her.  A question I have asked myself many times over.  Why?  Why?  Why?  I am beginning to hate the simple question.  Especially if it springs from the lips of a very inquisitive four year old boy.

Why her?  Why indeed.  Tala understands even less than I do.  She is… different.  That is all I can really say to describe her.  She is what she is, as I am what I am.

One time Tala even asked me when.  When was the moment I knew I had to have her?  You see at the time he was going through a rather philosophical stage, comparing the love lives of his friends to his own.  He had just married the red head at that point.  He was rather entertaining.  Unless of course he asked questions like the one above.  Then he was just fucking annoying, because he demanded an answer.  And I was expected to give one.

The first time I laid eyes on her was from an open helicopter door some thirty feet above her and her team on the frigid ice fields north of Moscow.  The whole group of them was small from our vantage point, but she, she was even smaller.  I found it hard to believe that such a small girl could be considered part of a beyblade team.  However, I wasn't stupid, and had read the information Boris had supplied us with prior to being picked up as Kai's replacement.  She was very much a part of the Bladebreakers, and she was only a year and a half younger than myself.  Despite the fact that she looked like a ten year old.

It was at that first meeting that I noticed the spark in her, the spark of life…of _light_ that shone deep within her eyes.  A spark I had never seen before, and do not possess myself.  I dismissed it immediately, thinking nothing more of it or her, even when she shrieked at us for stealing her blond teammate's bit beast and injuring him.  She was an insect.  Too small and insignificant to bother squishing.  If I remember correctly, at that point our main focus was that loud mouthed idiot Kinomiya and the traitor Hiwatari.  The other four were insubstantial.

The second time I saw her was just before the finals, when Boris insisted that we taunt them.  We did as we were told, even though it seemed utterly foolish and stupid to taunt the headstrong BBA supported team.  She looked slightly different.  I don't know if it was the fact that she was not surprised to see us, or just the face that she was no longer freezing to death, but something on that second meeting clicked in my mind.  She stared at me defiantly, and I stared right back.  It was only when my team was walking away that I was forced to break our gazes and turn away.

I think it was at that moment that the bond was formed.  Whatever bond that might be.  She seems to think so too.

I continued to watch her secretly from my place across the platform from her.  I watched as she cheered her team.  I watched as she comforted the traitor when he lost.

I secretly felt some twinge deep inside me, some intangible feeling that whispered to stop the arrogant boy's face into the very dish he had just lost in.  But I didn't.  I remained silent.  Unmoving as the days match was pronounced closed for the evening.

I admit that the rock to the stomach trick against the bitch Kon was as much for her benefit as for my entertainment and Voltaire's glee.  I revelled in the shocked and disgusted expressions that flitted over her face.  It meant that she noticed me.  And in the way I wanted.  The way that meant fear and loathing on her part.  The way that meant no contact on my behalf.

The rest of that tournament is rather a blur.  I lost, surprise, surprise, good guys apparently _always _win, even when the whole world knows that they shouldn't.  Kon and the rest of the Bladebreakers know who should have won that match.  And it wasn't Kon.

Tala's loss was really not overly surprising to those who watched from the sidelines.  Tala of course didn't have any idea that he was destined to lose from the outset but me, Spencer and Ian knew.  In fact I think Ian even turned to me while Boris' back was turned and said "He's going to lose.  Can you feel it?  It's as if he's facing every blader on their side."

And as usual Ian's statement turned out to be fairly accurate.  Tala lost and we were sent packing.  We disappeared before the 'good' side could start their celebrating.  I stole one more glance at the girl who annoyed me, but intrigued me and drew me at the same time.  She was watching us—or me which ever the case may be—a slight frown on her face.  I snorted at my own foolishness and walked out of the stadium, never looking back.

Within a few weeks I had forgotten her in the chaos of leaving the Abbey and moving into the small apartment set up for us by the BBA.  It was four years before I saw her or thought of her again.  And when she walked back in my life, I knew my life was over.

She dashed in to that waiting hall, panting, her cheeks flushed.  She was wearing a grey dress suit, with a miniscule skirt and matching vest with a white sleeveless blouse and blue tie, her feet balancing on some strappy excuse for footwear.  Her eyes were covered by dark, square-shaped sunglasses and she was carrying a black leather briefcase.  She paused for a moment and said:

"Yo."

It was as if Tala had smashed me over the head with an iron baseball bat.  I was suddenly extremely angry.  The very sight of her made me seethe, so I glared at her, all the while running my eyes down her slim, boyish figure, drinking in the sight of her. 

That was the real start of my down fall.

I learned shortly after that that she had spent the four intermitted years between the Moscow world tournament and the series of tournaments that lead up to the 2004 world tournament working for the BBA in Europe.  With the tall rich boy.

I didn't care of course.

The set of tournaments moved quickly, I barely spent any time in her presence, which was good because the more I did, the angrier I got.  At her, for doing nothing but being her.  I was lost, and confused and I hated her for it.  I still hate her for it.  She makes me feel like I don't really know anything.  Anything but her that is.

And then came the faithful day that we discovered she had 'betrayed' them and had switched sides to join Boris' new organisation BEGA.  Something snapped within me that day, something that has never been repaired.  Something that is only stable when she is in my sight and I know exactly what she is doing.

We had gone to storm the BEGA 'fortress', being the foolish 20-22 year olds we were.  It's funny to think back and remember your younger days, and how completely and utterly stupid you were.  How we ever thought we could storm that place I don't remember, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.  We believed we could do it, and that's what counted.

What we hadn't counted on was finding the small little Bladebreaker wench amidst the BEGA fools that tried to stop us.  By that point Kai had already betrayed us—surprise surprise, the fickle bastard—and so we were expecting him.  But not her.  She was supposed to be at the hotel, safe with her _real_ team, not shacked up with the enemy.

And fucking shacked up she was.  I still get angry just thinking about it.  Picturing her standing close to that…prick, laughing and smiling while he smirked down at her, an indulgent look in his eyes.  The way he brushed her bangs back from her forehead absently told me all I needed to know.

He had fucked her already.

For some reason—I had not yet realized that the little witch had me right where I had sworn never to be—the very idea of the BEGA blader even looking at her made me rage.  Not that that was really hard to do, but the kind of rage I felt that day was different from any other I had felt.  Even losing, even being used, nothing could compare to that moment. 

Pain accompanied the anger.  A harsh, searing pain that tore through my chest like a stab wound.

It felt as though someone had ripped out my heart and stomped on it.

This of course made my rage even worse.  Now not only was I angry, and in pain, but I was confused.  I was naïve, ignorant as to what I had gone and done, what _she_ had done to me.

When he beat us, all of us, and nearly killed Tala, I vowed that I would kill her somehow.  It was her fault we had lost, her fault I was in so much physical and mental pain.  I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me and my best friends.  She destroyed my life.  Or so I told myself.

I was never sure if the sorrow that I saw, the grief that echoed through her empty eyes that day as she followed him out, a crowd of supporters behind them, was real or just something my desperate and delusional mind made up.  Nor was I sure that the soft fingers I felt running over my damaged face, or the quiet whispers of encouragement and apology that brushed my ear while I was in a half asleep state locked up in the holding cells of the BEGA compound were real, or just a dream.  I've never bothered to ask her, and I doubt I ever will.

We were even less surprised to find her as one of the five bladers that would blade the Bladebreakers in the Justice Five tournament, the tournament that would decide the fate of the world.  You'd think Boris would have learnt the first time.  Tyson Kinomiya and Kai Hiwatari are unbeatable and even if you have one of their teammates, that doesn't mean you're going to win.

No one was really surprised when the Bladebreakers brought down BEGA—even though I'm sure some of the pathetic idiots in the audience thought that Kai was going to lose once more to that cocky bastard Brooklyn.  I didn't really care.  I just wanted to see Kinomiya stomp the man I hated worse than anyone else in the world.  The man I was going to kill first opportunity.

I carry a gun launcher for a reason.

However, even though the goody goodies' victory wasn't overly surprising, the events that followed the Justice Five tournament were.

It was soon revealed that she had never _really_ betrayed what is now referred to as 'our' side.  She had been working for the old man all the time, trying to bring down Boris from the inside.  The only ones that knew were the old man himself, and the rich German she worked with in between tournaments.

I intended to do nothing.  Not even the news that she hadn't betrayed 'us' could dampen the bitterness and anger that lingered in my mind.  She was no better than a whore in my mind, and could stay with my arch nemesis if she so chose to.  However, when he, who had been standing off to the side trying vaguely to comfort his beaten friend, had over heard this piece of news he growled, a growl that I recognized as one of my own growls that signified that someone was about to get hurt, and started towards their little group.

Whether or not he actually intended to hurt her never crossed my mind.  I was moving before I could even think, or he could react.  He was on the ground before he knew what hit him, the element of surprise had countered his 'prowess' in the martial arts, and my sheer size made up for the difference.  I was seeing red, that small fragment holding back my temper had finally snapped, and nothing was going to stop me from releasing my pent up rage.  Nothing. 

_A muffled grunt ground out from __Garland__'s throat as __Bryan__'s hands wrapped themselves around his throat.  Bryan outweighed Garland, even if he didn't out size him in height, and he wasn't unskilled in fighting.  __Garland__ was trapped, and knew it._

_"You touch her again and I'll kill you," __Bryan__ growled, his jade eyes narrowed to slits, his fingers squeezing the air out of __Garland__'s throat.  "Come **near** her again and I'll kill you."_

_Garland__ sneered, his own fingers wrapping around __Bryan__'s wrists trying to break the hold.  "What does it matter to you what I discuss with her?  You are nothing."_

_Bryan ground his teeth, his hands squeezing tighter, causing Garland to sputter, his face turning blue.  "She's mine!  Do you hear me?  **Mine**.  I'll kill you if you look at her again.  Don't tempt me any further."_

_There was a soft gasp from somewhere off to the side, then the sound of running feet against pavement.  Suddenly __Bryan__ was knocked off __Garland__ by a flying blue and white blur, whose arms had wrapped themselves around his neck._

_"I **am **yours…I always was."_

I both hate and love that day as I hate and love her.  I realized then just what I had said, not only out loud, but in front of the entire world.  I had done what I had vowed as a child not to do.  I had fallen for a woman, and I let her control my actions.  The uncontrollable rage I had felt was not so much rage, but jealousy.  I hated him because he touched what my heart and my mind already considered mine.  I was not amused.

It took awhile to adjust to the idea of loving someone, and having someone love me back.  No one had ever loved me, save my parents who were nothing more than a distant memory.  She said she had loved me for as long as she had known me, that she had fallen for me the first time our eyes met over four years before just before the finals.  She of course is a just a foolish woman.  Women like to romanticise things, and make them far more dramatic.  She's no different.  I doubt if I'll ever know when it really was she allowed herself to love me.

X

I broke out of my self induced isolationist haze, allowing my eyes to scan the happy room of rowdy party goers.  Spencer was scolding his wife for something, something, judging from the frantic glaring motions at her extremely large stomach suggested that it had something to do with her advanced pregnancy.  Ian was chatting it up with the mousy orange haired American woman who was laughing softly, her cheeks pink with delight.  My eyebrow rose.  Married so long and still acting like teenagers.  Even after children.  I shrugged.  It wasn't really my problem.

I moved on then, my eyes running over the various faces until they landed on an extremely familiar one.  A small smile disguised as a smirk touched my lips, my eyes washing over her body like I had never seen her before.

My new wife.  I had finally married her, after eleven years.  She was kneeling in front of our ten year old daughter, a small, understanding and caring smile on her face as she stroked the girl's head in attempt to comfort her.  My baby girl was incorrigibly shy and uncomfortable in large groups of people, and I almost wondered—judging by the tears in her eyes—if someone had said something mean to her.  One of the Jagen brats perhaps, or even more likely Ian's brat.  Alexei was known to be snippy and mean to my little girl.  I reminded myself to watch them like hawks in the future.

Just then a tall, orange headed, lanky boy stepped up beside my wife and smiled brightly at my Nadya, who promptly blushed at the sight of him.  He held out his hand and asked something, while my little wife laughed quietly and stood up, urging Nadya to go with the Kingston boy.  I don't know if I like that idea.  The boy had been getting a little close to my baby lately…

A tug interrupted my current train of threatening though and I looked down and into the solemn eyes of my four year old son.  Once again my eyebrow rose, silently inquiring his need or want. 

Instead of just reaching out his arms and demanding to be picked up my son blinked quietly and asked, "May I sit on your lap daddy?"  Mikhail was an incredibly articulate boy for his age, and secretly I was proud of him.

So, even though I really didn't like being called 'daddy', and preferred father, or papa, (my wife likes neither and insists our children call me daddy.  Ugh.) I reached out and picked the small boy up and placed him my lap, wrapping one of my arms around his waist to keep him balanced.

He leaned inwards, resting his small cheek against my chest and closed his eyes.  I realized instantly that he was obviously very tired and wanted to sleep, choosing my lap for a resting place.  I smiled gently, a smile that I know to the outside world is very unlike me, and smoothed my hand over his spiky silver locks, and through his smooth blue bangs.

"I love you daddy."  Mikhail murmured, his small fist balling the material of my dress shirt.

I couldn't help but sigh.  Even after ten years, I was still unused to being a parent.  But I had gotten better.  "I love you too Mika."  My voice was gruff, but he knows I mean it.

"I love you too…daddy," a teasing voice whispered into my ear, as its owner brushed a small kiss over my temple before sitting in the seat directly beside mine.  Liika leaned forward, letting her head rest on my shoulder so that she could look down at our son.  "He's very tired, I'll take him to bed now if you want."  She said softly, her fingers trailing down my arm and doing funny things to my heart beat.

"No.  He's fine where he is.  Jade will come and take him when they leave, or when we do."  I replied, my hand still moving through my son's hair absently.

She laughed quietly, moving her head to kiss my shoulder.  She is like that, affectionate beyond reasoning.  "Very well," she said, "Have it your way."

"Good."  I snorted, smirking to myself and wrapping my free arm around her waist.  "Arguing would be pointless anyway."

Her soft tinkling laugh fluttered again.  "So it would.  You're exceptionally stubborn tonight.  I want you to know right now though, just because I agreed to marry you, doesn't mean you own me," she warned in a playful tone.

Now I snorted for real.  "I've always owned you."  I snap back quickly, a serious edge on my voice.

She giggled.  "Of course you have."

I growled, leaning my head down close to her ear, careful to keep Mikhail balanced in my lap.  "I have, and I always will.  I love you woman, even if I hate you at the same time."

She just turned her head and smiled at me.  "In order to hate someone you have to love them first."  She stated softly before pulling away and disappearing into the thinning crowed, moving off to say her goodbyes before we adjourned to the hotel upstairs and then to our five day honeymoon in Scotland.

Love and hate are a fine line.  I believe they are really the same thing, because without one you cannot have the other.


End file.
